Three Years
by brynerose
Summary: Stand-alone AU threeshot. After three difficult years, a seemingly routine mission turns everything Prince Arthur believed completely upsidedown. His loyalty is torn between his father and the friend he never realized he had. And even if he chooses Merlin, while he ever have that friendship back? More inside, no slash.
1. Shock

**A/N: The angst spree continues! More character studying, still mostly Merlin, but through Arthur's eyes (and thus colored by his own inner battles). Set between seasons 3 and 4; I fudged a little with the timeline, as it's supposed to be stand-alone. Plus I wanted to have the tension of a living Uther while Arthur tries to sort all this out. **

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Arthur was sure this mission wouldn't be difficult.

He and his knights stormed into the hideout, interrupting a slave auction. How this place had gone unnoticed, right on the edge of Camelot's territory, he did not know. It infuriated him. The already frightened slaves jumping out of their skin at the intrusion. Sellers and buyers alike drawing weapons to protect their interests. A few trying to slip out with their wares or spoils—they didn't get very far. Arthur had brought a large force, intent on completely dismantling the operation.

A few men resisted, to be promptly subdued by knights. Arthur made straight for the leader, who, in order to officiate the proceedings, had given up an easy escape route. The angry prince was upon him before he could get far. If anything, however, being snatched into a choke hold against a cold sword blade simply amused him.

"Are you going to kill me?" he sneered.

Beyond belief, Arthur wanted to. The slave trader was revolting, his practices despicable. So was his breath, for that matter. But cold rage wouldn't help the situation. "No. You and your lieutenants will be brought to Camelot for trial in front of the king. Black market dealings and slave trade are forbidden in this kingdom, yet you have the _audacity_ to go into its villages for your sick business." He tightened his hold when the fiend laughed. "This tower is barely a day's ride from the citadel. How did you manage to go undetected for so long?"

His prisoner broke into a full unpleasant laugh. "Can't have you snitchin' my tricks, now, can I? Then everybody'd be wantin'—"

"_How did you do it_? I've been on the border patrols myself. They're too thorough. Is it sorcery?"

This time the man reverted to a gloating smile. Arthur threw him into the waiting arms of Leon and three other knights. "Get this scum ready for the return journey. Gwaine, you're with me. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"Kill him!" the trader suddenly roared. Arthur thrust his sword out to meet any oncoming challenger. What he didn't expect was the hidden lackey bolting _out_ of the room. No one else moved. If Arthur was not the target, who was?

He and Gwaine gave chase. The halls were narrow and twisting, difficult for someone in full battle gear with a sword drawn to navigate at speed. There were tight corners, stairs going downward, and very little light. Arthur had only the sound of footsteps to guide him. "You've lost the fight—just give up!"

And surprisingly, the footsteps stopped. Arthur took the spiral staircase so quickly it made him dizzy. Then he heard the clank of a metal door. _This man was sent to kill someone…_

"STOP!"

The man stood over a cowering figure in the cell at the end of the hall. Arthur saw the flash of manacles on the figure's upheld wrist. He wasn't close enough to stop the first blow, caught by the victim's forearm, or the cry of pain that followed. In fact, he was sure he wouldn't make it in time for the second one—until the assailant went rigid, a knife in his own back. Arthur whirled around. Gwaine hadn't even broken stride behind him.

"Get rid of that filth," he instructed the quick-thinking knight. Gwaine did as he was told, leaving Arthur to tend to the curled figure in the corner. "Hey, you're safe now. Let's get a look at your arm."

The gash didn't seem large, but it bled profusely. Arthur bound it with a strip of his own tunic. The victim's clothes were ratty to the point of nonexistence, frayed shirt cuffs almost up to the elbow. This revealed the eerily bright manacles, which weren't actually attached to anything. That couldn't bode well. They did seem to aggravate the surrounding skin, however. Almost like burns. His feet were bare, torn up. And the young man still cowered at Arthur's presence.

"Do you think you can walk?" Arthur asked tentatively. "It's alright, we're here to free you. You should have your wounds tended properly. My physician, Gaius, can help."

At last the matted, dark head lifted—and Arthur swore his heart stopped. The broken, disheveled captive in front of him…

…was Merlin.

Arthur snatched his friend into a crushing hug. "We thought you were dead!" his voice disintegrated to barely a croak. A surprised shout announced Gwaine's reappearance. But Merlin didn't react to either of them. He was dirty, shaggy-haired, and unshaven. Bruises and scars littered his exposed skin. Arthur felt the raised evidence of whipping under the threadbare shirt fabric. Merlin hissed in poorly concealed pain with every movement. "Sorry. Anything besides the arm we should watch out for?"

"Why…'re you doing this…"

"Merlin, it's me, Arthur."

Again, no flicker of acknowledgement. Merlin's once-bright eyes were dull, losing focus. Arthur's grip was the only force holding him up.

It had been threeyears…_three_ _years_ not knowing what happened.

"I'm so sorry, Merlin. I should have looked harder…" Arthur threw a glance to Gwaine, whose face was stuck somewhere between disbelief and horror. Was there anything left of their friend? Three years, after the servant never returned from gathering herbs for his mentor. They _had _searched_,_ well beyond the king's orders to stop, until the knights involved were threatened with insubordination and treasonagainst the crown. What did Merlin think of being stuck here, never rescued, enduring heaven knew what tortures? Arthur's attention wandered back to the strange manacles. Merlin shrank away when he tried to touch them. Under the torchlight Gwaine had brought this time, gouged runes could be made out across the surface.

"Magic…" the knight breathed. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut.

"Merlin…what do these do?" asked Arthur. He put a hand on one—and it was blasted back as far as his arm would allow. In the process, he caught the unmistakable gold flash as Merlin's eyes snapped open again. They both let out pained cries. Merlin quickly curled back into a ball; Arthur stared at him. How…?

"That's how they did it," whispered Gwaine. His tone was raw.

"_What_?"

"How the traders snuck around, attacking without being detected." The knight swallowed hard. "_Merlin_ was the weapon."

"That's impossible! It's—it must be the manacles. They're enchanted to keep him from being taken or escaping, or something. Maybe they control him, and people were tricked because he's so easy to trust."

"Arthur, that magic came _from_ Merlin. You saw it just as plain as I. The manacles probably keep him from using it in any way the traders don't like."

"I won't accept—"

"He has magic, Arthur."

Now Arthur was the one who felt totally without strength. "No, I don't believe that! All those years he was a servant—he worked tirelessly, took all the abuse I threw at him, even worked _against_ magic time and again! I mean, did you ever _see_ him on a day-to-day basis? He couldn't figure out the right end of a broom, let alone weapons or magic!" His voice cracked with emotion, but he didn't care. "He can't be…"

Merlin turned his deadened eyes toward them, though he didn't unfold his too-thin body. He made very brief eye contact with Arthur, contact that betrayed more hurt and sadness than Arthur thought anyone could show. The sight tore him to his soul.

"You…you're a sorcerer…?"

Merlin whispered something. Arthur didn't understand, and he was too overwhelmed to hide the confusion from his expression. But he jumped when the wretched manservant before him cleared his throat with an awful hacking sound, face hidden by shaggy hair.

"Warlock…actually…"

This didn't help. "What's the difference?" For some reason, their friend's refusal to look up again, even if it was out of exhaustion, angered him. "Tell me! How is that any different from the evil we used to fight together?"

"Didn't learn magic…" Merlin attempted to push up onto his elbow. His arms shook. Gwaine jumped forward to help, and he didn't refuse the gesture. "Born with it…Couldn't stop it…had to learn to use it…"

"And you chose to live in the one place where it would be the death of you?" Arthur butted in incredulously. "You gained _access _to the _royal chambers_! I _trusted_ you!"

"Don't think it wasn't always on my mind…" Merlin stiffened with pain. Gwaine coaxed softly about trying not to do too much.

Arthur still didn't get it. "_Why_?"

Pain caused Merlin's breath to hitch a couple times. Dammit, he shouldn't _be_ in this much pain! He closed his eyes for a long moment before almost meeting Arthur's gaze again. Almost. "Because you're meant to be a great king…and someone had to help you get there…"

"We should get him to Gaius," Gwaine prompted. "The others will be wondering where we are at any rate." He hefted Merlin to his feet with some difficulty. Arthur still hadn't moved. "Oy, Princess, you still there? Or did the magic fry what brains you had?"

This was all too much to think about. Fortunately, the sight of Merlin struggling to remain upright brought back Arthur's instinct to protect his friends. The manservant had never hurt anyone unless truly pressed to do so, and never to his own enjoyment. He didn't deserve this fate. And Arthur, like everyone, _had_ thought Merlin dead—he couldn't suppress the incredible relief at seeing the gangly man again. So he took up his friend's other arm. They would have to sort out the facts and dilemmas later.

"No, I agree. Let's get out of here."


	2. Panic

**Wow, such an amazing following response in just the first 24 hours! I'm flattered! You know what would make me absolutely glow? Also reviewing! I've heard from a couple of you-thanks so much :) Reviews let me know what's working and what doesn't, so I can post better stories. I enjoy hearing what you think. But enough of that-time to see how the boys are coping...**

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Arthur peeked in the infirmary door. To his luck, Gaius was out on rounds. No awkward questions, then. Just as well; it had taken days to gain the chance to slip his duties without his father's notice. He snuck across the cluttered main chamber to Merlin's room.

Gaius had explained Merlin's history with magic, how it was part of the young man's existence whether anyone liked it or not. At first, Arthur thought the revelation and resulting feeling of betrayal would crush him—all these years, the man he thought he knew was actually living a lie. As the physician revealed time after time when the seemingly good-for-nothing manservant had saved anywhere from individuals to the whole of Camelot _using magic_, Arthur felt a growing chasm in his stomach. Never asked for credit, power, or manipulated circumstances for his own gain (which Arthur could attest to, at least). There was no one more loyal to Arthur than Merlin.

The servant was curled up under his blanket, asleep, but he was shaking. Arthur's heart broke all over again for his friend. Gaius said Merlin often wouldn't sleep unless given a tonic for it. He was skittish if unfamiliar voices were close enough, let alone if someone was in the same room. He didn't talk unless spoken to. He stuck almost entirely to his room, once Gaius had him cleaned up and his wounds treated. All in all, he looked just about normal—on the outside, anyway.

Arthur couldn't fathom how Merlin must feel. They had all lost three years, in a way, but only Merlin's experience had also meant losing his freedom. The _look_ in his eyes when Arthur first realized it was him in that cell. The pain that must have stemmed from those manacles alone.

But that didn't stop the prince from feeling hurt by the lack of trust. He knew in his heart that Merlin had every right to keep his secret, in fear for his life. Uther could be a harsh judge. Arthur probably would have made the same decision in Merlin's shoes. If only there was some way his servant (_former_ servant, as he was in no state to work right now) could have confided the truth to someone and felt safe. Anyone, besides Gaius. Someone closer to his own age. Arthur found himself wondering who was really the traitor. Given the opportunity, would he have used magical restraints on his own friend purely out of fear of sorcery? Hadn't his father?

As for the cursed manacles, they had indeed been for channeling and controlling a sorcerer's magic to whatever purpose the wielder set it to. Merlin's body rejected the control, though he could never throw it off completely, resulting in many of his injuries. Gaius described it like being awake, but unable to command one's own soul, let alone body. That's how deep Merlin's magic went. Arthur shuddered at the thought. It wasn't right, for anyone. Not even a sorcerer. Removing the seamless metal from Merlin's wrists at last had been a tense, painstaking, and pain_ful_ process for everyone involved. Arthur hoped he never had to witness such a struggle again.

Still in bed, Merlin suddenly grew quite agitated. He mumbled unintelligibly, which grew increasingly desperate as the blankets got tangled, until he was practically tied up. Then his voice rose to nearly a shout. Whatever was going on in his head, it terrified him. Arthur couldn't stand for it.

"Hey—hey! Wake up, Merlin! You're safe in Camelot. You're not trapped anymore!" he insisted, trying to pull the blankets loose. "Listen to me—I am your friend, there's no one else, _you are okay_!"

The inkwell from the nearby desk missed Arthur's head by inches before it crashed into the opposite wall. An invisible force threatened to throw him just as easily, but he held tight to his thrashing friend's shoulders. "Merlin! Don't make me knock you out. _There is nothing here to hurt you!_"

Merlin's wide-eyed gaze fixed at last on Arthur's face. This time he showed recognition of where he was and who was with him. Not that the sight calmed him—there was no mistaking what had just happened. Magic. No more pretending it was just a scary story. Arthur felt frozen. Before him, Merlin held his clenched fists tight to his own chest, gaze quickly downcast once more. Tears hovered in the corners of the troubled blue eyes. The bunched sleeves of his shirt revealed his burned wrists, the only wounds that didn't seem to be fading back to normal. Magical effect as well, Arthur supposed.

Merlin took a shuddering breath. His eyes radiated fearful anticipation, flicking between the door and the man gripping him. Arthur realized the limbs beneath his fingers were still trembling.

"It's only me, see? No guards or anything. I was just checking on you. Gaius is out right now."

Disbelief—perhaps a bare hint of the old wry humor—joined the fear.

"It's not against the law, you know." Arthur surveyed Merlin's more-starved-than-ever build. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."

"Not hungry."

"Like hell you're not. Up you get."

Arthur didn't like how Merlin just gave in to being pulled along, but at least the young man was moving. And he sat obediently at the table while Arthur poked through the cupboards looking for Gaius' pantry. _Huh, you would think someone under the employ of the king would be able to afford more…_ In the end he settled for some bread, two slices of salted beef, and an apple. He wasn't going to try to cook. A pitcher of water and two cups already waited at the table. He watched sternly until his friend started to eat.

"Why are you doing this?" Merlin asked hoarsely.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I just figured…after what you saw…" He gestured with one mottled arm.

_Oh…_ Arthur studied the wounds. What _did_ he think, especially after having magic thrown directly at him? Well, whether that was intentional was up for debate, given the poor man's state of mind. He wanted to give the benefit of the doubt there. But could he believe that Merlin would remain good in the face of a power that had corrupted so many? Would he be able to keep this dangerous secret from Uther? Did he even _care_ to? Arthur had puzzled over these questions since their return, and he still hadn't arrived at an answer.

Here went nothing.

"Gaius…explained everything to me," he began slowly. His heart clenched as Merlin's anxiety tangibly skyrocketed again. "Don't—please don't think of it like that. Sure, it was a bit of a shock to find out, but I'm giving the whole situation due thought before I take any action. No one knows. You're safe here."

"Magic's not…not anywhere…"

He couldn't exactly refute that statement. They sat in awkward silence for another few minutes. Finally Arthur bit his lip, and took a deep breath. "Can I ask…what you did? Well, what they made you do. I don't you responsible for those actions. But believe me, they will never have that power again, over _anyone_."

Merlin used the nibbling of small pieces of bread as an excuse not to make eye contact. His mind was clearly back in that hellhole of the past three years. Arthur reaffirmed that magic or no magic, he _hated_ the empty, stolen appearance of his friend. Merlin may be rescued, but he wasn't really _here_. That bothered Arthur above anything else in this mess—the feeling that perhaps he had failed after all. That Merlin was never coming back. _No, I refuse to believe that!_ There had to be a way to reach him. He just had to figure it out.

"I mean, you don't have to share anything before you're ready. I wouldn't want to. Gaius just thought maybe…it would help. Or I heard him mention it, anyway."

The waifish servant curled further in on himself, if that was possible. It shouldn't have been, given Merlin's height. Arthur felt compelled to put a hand to one bony shoulder, though he retreated when Merlin flinched. Was there nothing left for him to find comfort in, surrounded by safe, familiar rooms? This wasn't fair. Any of it. _Damn _the bastards who did this!

"It was bad…horrible…" Merlin croaked just as Arthur was about to give up on the man's power of speech. "I couldn't escape it…"

"Whatever they told you, you didn't deserve anything they did," Arthur heard himself saying.

"Not them…so many innocent…and I…I…"

Merlin was rocking back and forth on the bench by now. His eyes stared in the direction of the rough wood in front of him, but didn't see it. His hands rubbed obsessively at the opposite wrists. Arthur saw the discolored skin quickly becoming inflamed again. When he tried to pull Merlin's hands apart, however, the servant jerked away violently. Tears splashed onto his faded sleeves with the movement.

"They created a monster! It hurt…they were hurting…couldn't stop…screams, everywhere…" The clawing hands leapt to his black hair. Arthur's heart flew into his throat when he noticed clear nail marks on top of the burns, some bleeding. Merlin's panic was spiraling out of control. His breathing sounded painfully ragged as he repeated, 'monster, monster!' like a verbal lash. Once or twice, his elbows collided with the table top, he rocked so far forward. Arthur finally tackled him trying to get him to stop.

"What on earth is going on?" thundered Gaius as he suddenly entered. Hands full of his satchel and assorted loose supplies, he could only stare at the two figures wrestling on the floor.

Arthur felt Merlin's terror-fueled strength start to wane. He finally succeeded in pinning the squirming former servant, and with some difficulty, hauled Merlin to his feet. His friend's breaths came in harsh sobs; thin shoulders sagged against Arthur's chest. By this time, Gaius had dropped his things on the work table and swiped a vial of what Arthur hoped was a sleeping draft. The liquid went down Merlin's throat before he had a chance to protest.

"Get him back to bed," the weary court physician instructed. Merlin had pretty much stopped struggling, and was an all but dead weight as Arthur supported him across the chamber. Gaius trailed behind with materials to treat Merlin's further-tortured wrists. "What exactly were you doing, Sire?"

Arthur heaved a sigh. "I just wanted to check on him at first. He was having some kind of nightmare, so I woke him up, and then figured he could probably do with something to eat. Maybe I shouldn't have asked about his time with the traders…it got out of hand so quickly…"

Gaius dabbed gently at the nail marks on one wrist. Sprawled on the bed, Merlin drifted off unaware of them. "We need to let Merlin choose when to broach that subject. He could have really hurt himself in such a fit. I know I said talking might help, but recalling painful memories is a double-edged sword."

"He thought…I would want nothing to do with him…after finding out…"

"A not unreasonable fear, I must admit, given Camelot's recent history. He could only hope to see you mend your father's harsher actions someday." Gaius finished bandaging the first wrist, moving deftly on to the second. Merlin didn't even flinch now. "Make no mistake, though, his loyalty went far beyond his own desires. He saw the good in you, the man you would become. The king we will one day all be proud to serve."

Arthur swallowed hard as he watched Merlin sleep through the ministrations. "He was the first to really show it, too. Granted, it was usually in the most obnoxious, disrespectful, unbecoming-of-a-servant way possible." The memories coaxed a quiet laugh out of him. "That's why I want to help him, Gaius. I can't watch him live like this."

"I'm glad to hear that, Sire. He'll need the support of friends to remind him what he still has. In the meantime, let him rest. He has much to recover from."


	3. Change

**A/N: My apologies for the wait; as those of you also following Loyalty's Destiny may have already read, I was out of commission for some time with bronchitis. It's amazing how little you want to sit up and do when you're coughing your entire chest cavity inside-out. But that is THANKFULLY over with. Here is the final installment, now that I've tweaked it enough that it doesn't feel so hoaky. Healthy layer of cheese, though. Enjoy!**

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Arthur paced the clearing nervously. He couldn't believe he was doing this, right under his father's nose. It was insane! But he was desperate. Gwaine, and surprisingly Lancelot, were covering for his absence from the castle. He was beginning to wonder if Lancelot somehow knew—or at least had an idea—of the situation. The knight had always been a close friend of Merlin's.

_Merlin. _Every effort to get through to his servant had resulted in some version of emotional breakdown, usually ending in one of them having to knock him out, medicinally or otherwise. His wrists had endured more damage in the past three days than over his entire captivity, particularly in the episode when he had tried to take an herb knife to the 'manacles' (much more yielding linen bandages, in fact). And according to Gaius, sheer stress could be just as dire as any illness. Especially if the person was already in a weakened state. So Arthur stood there, in the middle of the night, about to face something he had thought long dead.

Speaking of Gaius, the aging physician materialized on horseback out of the darkness of the trees. He was alone.

"What's happened?" asked Arthur, voice quite a bit higher than intended or liked.

"Gwen is on her way with him," Gaius placated. "It took a bit to get him to cooperate, so I figured I'd best go on ahead and get started." Once on his own feet, he proceeded to empty his saddlebag and set up the contents. A brass plate and bowl, several candles, a vial of powder, and a carefully bound piece of fabric were arranged in the grass. Arthur felt his heart go wild.

This should be wrong. _Beyond_ wrong. Letting Gaius perform magic—to summon a creature Arthur himself had supposedly killed, no less—was committing treason on both their parts. Arthur wanted so badly to just be able to trust Gaius' word that it was the _user_, not the magic that made such actions good or evil. But one drastic shaking of his world was not enough to undo a lifetime of conviction. Not to mention the fact that his father remained the law of the land. Arthur still recoiled at the signs of magic.

Candles lit, Gaius poured the powder into the bowl. This was followed by the contents of the fabric bundle; Arthur leaned close in the low light to see what it was. A lock of charcoal black hair. Then Gaius lit the end of a twig picked out of the grass, and tossed it in as well. The strong smell of incense rose into the air. Last came the strange, chilling words. Words of the Old Religion.

When the physician was finished, nothing stirred in the clearing except a light breeze.

"You're sure it worked?" Arthur ventured.

"There is no guarantee, Sire," admitted Gaius. "While I personally know Kilgarrah, and the spell is supposed to let me call him on Merlin's behalf, I am no dragonlord. It's tricky business, trying to command a dragon."

"I still can't believe…did Merlin ever know? When we went to look for Balinor?"

Gaius sighed heavily. "I did tell him, right before you left."

"God…for once, I agree with him calling me a prat…I must have sounded so heartless…"

"That was then. You're both very different now."

"Tell me about it. Just doing this is completely different."

The snort of a horse caused both of them to spin around. Gwen emerged into the moonlight, gently leading a second horse topped by a hunched figure with black hair. Merlin furtively took in everything about his surroundings. By his expression, he knew where they were, but Arthur's presence kept him on edge as to why. Gaius walked up to reassure him.

"It's alright, Merlin. This is just a meeting of friends."

The tense man followed the prompting to dismount. A large, shadowy blotch darkened one side of his forehead where Gwaine had knocked him out the day before. Simply an accidental reaction. Merlin _had _tried to wrestle him for his sword in his panic. No permanent damage done. Before anyone could get further, however, a great wind buffeted the entire clearing. Arthur ducked. The horses bucked and squealed as a huge shadow blocked the moonlight. Every inch of the situation screamed _fight_—the claws longer than daggers, the hard-as-steel scales, the spiked tail, the catlike teeth. If cats grew to the size of the castle stables.

For the first time since his return, Merlin was the least nervous of the group, though that only meant so much. Gwen clung to the horses' reigns like lifelines. Arthur kept his hand on his sword. And while Gaius bowed in greeting, his movements were stiff with apprehension. The Great Dragon surveyed the scene.

"Well, I have to say I did not anticipate being summoned thus, even after years of silence," it purred. Yes, _purred._ A quiet rumble from its armored chest that Arthur would not have thought possible for its girth. The glowing eyes came to rest on Merlin, who was picking at the worn bandages on his wrists. Gwen snatched the offending hand. Was it just Arthur's imagination, or was the dragon _sad_? "Oh, young warlock, what has become of you?"

Merlin ducked his head further in shame.

"Black market dealers, I'm afraid," Gaius stepped up further. "They captured him in the forest, Great One. Discovered his abilities, and used them for their own ends. For three years, he was trapped with enchanted manacles. They must have cut off his contact with you."

At this comment, Merlin stuffed his wrists beneath his open jacket.

The dragon fixed him with a protective look. "A heavy burden to live with. However, not an impossible one. What's past is past. It should be remembered and heeded for its lessons, but not dwelt upon with guilt."

"What if some things can't be forgotten, or remedied?" muttered the desolate young man.

"Tell me, were you at any point swayed by their demands?"

"It didn't matter in the end…nothing I did prevented their twisted schemes, again, and again…"

"You were an unwilling pawn, Merlin. That made you very different from them."

"But I couldn't stop! So much for 'the great Emrys'...people were hurt because of _me_, what I am…"

"And if you resign yourself to those thoughts, then they won!" Arthur blurted out. Everyone except Merlin turned to look at him. He tried not to feel on the spot. "Sometimes horrible things go on in the world. But you have to keep going, keep fighting, no matter what. If something bad happens, you charge back at it. Drown it out with good! You don't know until you try, right? That's what you told me once, hiding out in that cave from Morgana. _You_ told me we hadn't lost unless we gave up. And we succeeded in the end! Come on, you have to be the most purely _good_ man I have ever encountered. You can beat this!"

The dragon dipped its head low. "Come here, Merlin."

Merlin stumbled forward. When he reached the huge reptilian face (which was nearly his height on its own), the dragon's wings folded down to obscure them both. The purring tone started up again, though this time in an unrecognizable language.

"What's it doing?" Gwen whispered to Gaius. She stroked the nose of one of the horses as it fidgeted.

"That's the Dragontongue. Only they and their lords can understand it," shrugged the physician. "Kilgarrah is not the most straightforward of creatures, but I know one thing for sure. The bond between dragon and dragonlord has no equal. If anyone can reach Merlin, it's him."

"And if he can't?" chimed Arthur grimly.

"I pray with every fiber of my being that Merlin isn't so broken…"

They watched the membrane wall before them, radiating with strange words. For the first time, Arthur took in how majestic the dragon was. How ancient and commanding its presence was in that moonlit clearing. His father would just say that was some trick of magic to lower his defenses, but he couldn't help but feel _safe_ here. Which was strange, considering the last time he and the dragon met, they kept trying to kill each other. Why was this a good idea, again?

After several long, tense minutes, the wings parted. Merlin had sunk to his hands and knees, breathing hard. The dragon was no longer so close. Warily, Arthur snuck forward. To his surprise, the dragon actually nodded and withdrew further. Arthur was allowed to reach his shaking friend. Merlin flinched at his touch at first, but otherwise stayed where he was.

"Merlin…?"

Gulping in a deep breath, the tortured blue eyes rose to meet Arthur's. A feeble almost-smile crept onto Merlin's face as he deliberately held eye contact this time. One wobbly hand reached out to grasp Arthur's arm. "I-I…I'm not sure…so much pain, the memories…" He pitched sideways trying to get to his feet. Arthur caught him.

"Well don't go trying too much at once."

"…But I think…I can be okay…"

Arthur got them both standing. Merlin was still looking him in the eye, if timidly. Suddenly Arthur didn't care where they were, who was present, or what was potentially treason. Or what was manly, either. He pulled his lost friend into a desperate hug, laughing hysterically. It didn't even matter that Merlin was too stunned to hug back, despite his numerous inquiries about the action over the years. Arthur was simply so relieved, so heartened to see this glimpse of the man he knew and trusted. Okay, he would have to rebuild that trust somewhat. He would make it happen. Gwen piled into them, finally leaving the horses to themselves. By this time, Merlin had recovered enough from shock to return the gesture. Lastly Gaius joined them, who had more than earned a father-sonly embrace with his young ward.

"My work here is done," proclaimed the dragon above all their heads. "You still have much to do, young warlock. I will, of course, answer your call when you have need of me."

"Thank you, Kilgarrah. I will never forget this," Merlin answered quietly. They staggered in the wake of the powerful wings as the great dragon took off. Soon all evidence of his presence faded into the night.

"So, what did he do?" asked Gwen, at once excited and tentative.

Merlin took a moment to think. "He just…showed me the way out, it feels like. I was stuck in the memories like an endless bog. No matter what I did, I couldn't find solid ground on my own."

Gaius clapped a firm, weathered hand on Merlin's shoulder. "He was right. You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. It was tragic, yes, but ultimately it wasn't you doing those things. Focus on what's in your true nature. What's here." His other hand patted Merlin's chest.

"It's not going to be easy…"

"It never is," mused Arthur. "Some nights it tries to squeeze the life from your heart. It feels like there's blood on your hands that will never come off. Even the most hardened warriors have those moments. You just push back harder. And you remember that you have people to help you through it. Don't let anything or anyone tell you otherwise."

More impressed looks—or owlish ones, in Merlin's case. Why did it feel so awkward to be encouraging? Not entirely sure where to go from there, Arthur resorted to clearing his throat. "Well, um, we should all be getting back to the castle to get some decent sleep. I know we could all use it. Not a word to anyone outside this group about what happened here, though, understood? This whole thing remains a secret."

Merlin stared at the prince. "What? What about my…you know? Your father would go off his head! He _is_ still the king, and as much as I'd like to avoid dying, I don't think it's worth risking all four of us. I'll leave, go back home, stay far away so you can't get into trouble."

"You'll do no such thing, Merlin. I think Gwen and Gaius agree that it's very much worth the risk. You're one of the only real friends I have. I'm not losing you again. Not to fear, not to my father, not to anything." Arthur had to take a deep breath before his feelings got away with him again. "Now, that's not to say I'm fine with you doing magic willy-nilly, especially in front of me. I'm a bit new to this, and we do have to worry about my father finding out. But should fortunate little…_coincidences_ keep happening when we're in a tight spot, I don't see that anything has changed. We do tend to get lucky."

A ghost of Merlin's old smile unfolded, a truly welcome sight after the past few days. He wasn't back to normal yet. He might never completely return to normal. But he was on the right path. Arthur could live with that.

"Now, I know I'm ready to go home. Anyone else?"


End file.
